Paradise Skies
by Pereybere
Summary: Brennan and Booth are in the paradise island of Ile Maurice. Sunny days and balmy nights only amount to one thing. And you know I love writing it!
1. Ile Maurice

**Title: **_Paradise Skies_

**Rating: **It _will_ be an M, but at the moment, I'm putting it as a T.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters. The descriptions of Mauritius, although I shouldn't lay claim to them, are entirely mine. In fact, these descriptions are my memories. So, go easy on the criticism, or my memories will be ruined… (_kidding, nothing can ruin my memories, but still be kind…)_

**A/N: **All the places mentioned herein, are real. Mauritius is enormously special to me, and it really is amazing. I would say, if you have a moment, buzz on to Google Images and check it out. I am also putting _Impossible Dream_ on hold for awhile, because it hasn't been quite what I imagined on paper… or screen or whatever… so I'm moving on. Hope this one is better!

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

She pulled open the louvered balcony doors, fanning her skin. Outside, the humid afternoon air, and the soft sea breeze carried with it the scent of freshly cut mangos, skinned papaya, tropical flowers and foreign cuisine. She tried to identify all the smells that assaulted her senses and made her mouth water. It had been too long since she'd indulged in a vacation that took her away from the Jeffersonian and away from war-torn terror as well.

Beyond the hotel grounds, tourists wind-surfed in water so crystalline, it looked as though it were the purest liquid on the earth. And just beyond the dark blue horizon, the coral reef broke whispery waves, scarring the beautiful azure infinity with foamy brilliance.

The beach stretched forever around the crescent-moon shaped bay. The odd sun worshipper dotted the powdery white sand, the stress from their busy normal lives made perfect by the isolation and privacy offered to them by the prestigious hotel that had become their temporary abode.

Brushing her hair back into a knot away from her sun-kissed cheeks, she rested her weight on balcony rail which had been fashioned out of long columns of dark wood. Glancing down, she saw that giant fuchsia coloured flowers climbed the white walls, and reached over to touch the velvety petals. Yellow pollen clung to her fingertips and she blew it away, watching how the dust flew into the air and spiralled downwards.

Inhaling deeply, she caught the smell of citrus added to the already delicious mix of natural tropical blend.

In the middle of her line of vision, she saw an oddly shaped island that rose into a point at one end and slipped slowly down to land. The guide called it _Coin de Mire _and she thought it looked enchanting and mysterious in its own right.

In the midst of it all, she could almost have forgotten why she was even there. Despite the pure romance that permeated every inch of the glorious island, she had work to do. Work that did not include the pesky man who lay stretched out on her futon, despite his own deluxe suite just down the hall. She sighed, rolling her shoulders and glancing at her watch.

There was time for a shower before her guide, Vishnu, came to collect her.

"Why did you have to come?" She asked, picking his backpack off her coffee table and tossing it towards the door. He opened one eye, smiling broadly.

"I'm on vacation," he said, shrugging easily. "And where better to vacation, Bones? Literal paradise." He removed a guidebook from the back pocket of his shorts, and flicked to a memorised page. "Listen to this: 'You get the impression that Mauritius was created first and then heaven and that heaven was copied after Mauritius'. Mark Twain had the right idea, Bones." Brennan pressed her palm to her forehead and glanced longingly towards the bathroom, with it's marble bath and so appealing shower.

"But why here?" She asked, turning to her luggage. "Why not Jamaica or Hawaii? _Why_ here?" He watched the rotating ceiling fan for a few moments. It did four slow rounds before he shrugged, and stood.

"Last time you went away, you got yourself involved in some seriously dodgy voodoo shit and I don't relish the thought of getting another call at Ungodly hours of the morning asking me to fly across the world to Mauritius. You might be dead before I reach you." She folded her arms, the little shell bracelet that had been given to her by an old lady in the airport slipped down her arm.

"Do I need to remind you that I am perfectly capable of looking after myself?" She snapped, her voice chillier than the air conditioning. "I've been to countries most people only see in their nightmare, Booth and I do not need you baby-sitting me, okay?" He laughed, pulling a waxy red Anthurium from the vase and offering it to her as a would-be olive branch. She took it, dropping her arms to her side.

"Forget it said anything. I'm here for the piña colada and nothing more!" He cheekily saluted her and sauntered to her door, snagging his backpack between his fingers as he did. "See you by the pool, Bones!" When the door slammed, she smirked. He didn't really need to know that she'd already made plans. He could drink all the exotic cocktails he wanted, but she was definitely not going to be visiting the pool today.

Showered, she declined, for the first time in such a long time, to dry her hair, instead, Brennan combed the damp strands through and decided to let the blazing sun, perched high the gloriously clear sky, dry it naturally.

When dressed, she had ten minutes to spare before her arranged schedule with Vishnu. Gathering a few belongings in her backpack, she slipped her feet into comfortable sandals and stretched her left leg out. It was milky white, the result of a typical DC winter. By the time her work here was gone, she'd have a healthy golden tan and she intended on ensuring baring her skin to the sun as much as she could.

Lathering lotion over her calves, shins and thighs, she wondered at how much she loved the smell of sun-lotion. The creaminess reminded her of summer, sunbathing and no work. But alas, her trip was purely for work purposes.

She replayed the facts over in her mind, slinging her backpack over her shoulders and tucking her key into her short's pocket.

Suspected 16th Century Dutch explorer. Found buried in the marshy forest in the southern most edge of the island in Grand Riviére Noire. Vishnu was a local archaeologist who had been working abroad for the past fifteen years. Finding something so extraordinary so close to home was an exciting time for him and his team. He wanted to verify the authenticity of the remains, and he had called on the best to help him do just that.

Brennan descended the stairs to the hotel foyer, where a delicate water feature caught her attention. She stood at the edge of the granite pool, admiring the Koi fish as they meandered through the rocks within their habitat. A specially designed waterfall cascaded a cool spray continuously over a manmade feature and Brennan reached her hand out to gather the icy water in her palm.

Behind her, someone cleared their throat, and she turned.

A tall dark haired, dark skinned man wearing a linen shirt and khaki pants thrust his hand out. "Dr Brennan?" He asked, his voice carrying a thick Creole accent. "Vishnu Narayan, so pleased to meet you." She grasped his outstretched palm, and smiled.

"Likewise. I appreciate you contacting us about such an extraordinary find," she said, following him across the airy foyer to the entrance. "How did you hear of the Jeffersonian?" Vishnu shrugged.

"I hadn't heard so much about the Jeffersonian as its talented team of anthropologists. I was working in France whenever I read a Canadian newspaper that you'd featured in." Brennan silently mouthed an 'Oh'. It seemed the media could take a persons details far and wide. "We only discovered it last week, and we've moved it to our… lab." Vishnu gestured to the open-topped Jeep that was parked at the edge of the road.

"Where is your lab?" Brennan asked, slipping into the passenger side of the vehicle.

"The University. I'm afraid we haven't got anything… high tech. There has never been much need for a proper institution. Mauritius is a small island, where big finds rarely occur." He started the engine and a local radio station blurted French through the speakers. "We really so appreciate you coming all the way here, Dr Brennan," Vishnu said. "Finding a Dutch man…" he shrugged, as though his half spoken sentence said more than he could have possibly explained.

"Seeking vengeance on the people who ate your birds?" Brennan joked, as the Jeep rounded the bend and officially left the little fishing village of Grand Gaube behind.

"We've been owned by many countries," Vishnu said. "The Dutch, Portuguese, France, Britain and there is much to be learnt. Our independence is a fairly new thing, you understand." Brennan nodded. "Originally we were discovered by the Arabs, but there's nothing to be found from them. The discovery of someone from so far back…" his knuckles tightened around the steering wheel. "It's monumental for me." Brennan turned her head, the humid breeze flowing through her hair and drying the strands into wavy curls about her shoulders.

"And the chances of a hoax?" She asked at last. Vishnu shrugged helplessly.

"It's an eventuality we won't want to imagine." Brennan saw the spectacular glimmer of the ocean again, and a glorious white beach filled with locals and tourists alike. She smelt pineapple now, sold by street-vendors and curved into amazing shapes. When they slowed for a light, the little boy carrying the pineapples offered her one in exchange for fifty rupees. Brennan patted her pockets, helplessly. Vishnu tossed a coin at the kid and rambled something in Creole.

Brennan held the scented fruit in her hand and watched the exchange. When the light turned to green, they sped off and Vishnu chuckled. "The pineapple is worth ten rupees maximum. You're a tourist and tourists will pay anything the locals ask. Haven't you ever heard of haggling?" Brennan broke a piece of the pineapple off, and sucked the juicy morsel into her mouth.

"He looked poor…" she said, shrugging.

"He is." Was all Vishnu said. "So, the receptionist said you checked in with a partner. Is he too jet-lagged for an afternoon of bone examination?" Brennan ate another piece.

"He's FBI," she said. "And he's here on vacation. Booth," she paused, "my partner, has alcohol and sun-lounging in mind. Nothing more." Vishnu chuckled.

"FBI? How did the FBI get involved?" This time, Brennan laughed.

"Since when did they need an excuse?" And then she realised she was quite glad that her irritating partner was there. Maybe he had nothing to do with her work, but wouldn't it be nice to have someone to talk to over dinner? Someone who'd listen objectively and not be in a hurry to prove intelligence in return?

After a long moment, she sucked pineapple juice off her fingers and turned to the beach again. "So where are we now then?" Her guide followed her gaze to the expensive villas and glorious beach, the traditional Thai restaurant and smiled.

"This? This is Pereybére."

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

_Anyone for some hot island loving between Booth and Brennan? I have no idea why Booth would go to Mauritius with Brennan and y'know what? I don't care! The thought of the island and the sex is enough to make my imagination take over. _

_The North coast of Mauritius is that which I know best. At the end of each chapter, I am going to add a little 'pronunciation' chart, because a lot of you probably can pronounce these words, but some cannot. And that's a little insight to the meaning of my penname. I cannot put the accent in, so you see as it's meant to be._

**_Grand Gaube – _**Gran (no dress on the 'd') Gou-be

**_Pereybére – _**Per-ray-bear (with emphasis on the first 'e')

_I hope you like this story. I also hope I can do the island feeling some justice._

_The people really do sell carved pineapples by the roadside and they somehow taste so good. It's probably all in the mind… _

_This is the longest author's note yet, so I'm going to end it now. But please, please review. I promise sweaty BB sex. _


	2. Island Life

**Title: **Paradise Skies

**Disclaimer: **Every night I go to bed and hope when I wake up I will own them. But in the morning, I'm still in my own bedroom and not in some million-dollar mansion, so no, they're not mine.

**Rating: **I promise it'll be an M eventually. But I'll change the rating accordingly.

**A/N: **Thank you to all the people who think sweaty island sex is appealing. Thanks to anyone who Googled Mauritius. It really is amazing. I want to incorporate that in my story. So please, keep reading.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Booth drained his glass and turned to the barman, who was grinning. "Another?" He asked, snagging a bottle of locally distilled rum. Booth pressed her fingers to his forehead, scanning the liqueurs that lined the bar. Another exotic piña colada, he'd be officially drunk.

"What did you put in that?" He whined, picking the vibrant red cherry off the glass. The barman, whose name-tag read 'Nav' uncapped the bottle and held it up for Booth's inspection.

"I cannot reveal the secrets of my trade," he joked. "But I can tell you that it is ten parts rum…" Booth chuckled, dropping his head to the long mahogany bar.

"Yeah… I can believe it," he said, slipping the cherry into his mouth. "I've never drank a cocktail made primarily from rocket fuel before." Nav poured a plentiful amount of clear white rum into a glass and shrugged.

"I don't know what that means, _Monsieur_," he said. Booth slipped unsteadily off the bar stool, and turned to the vibrant blue horizon, dulled only by the fading sunlight.

"You in cohorts with Bones?" He mumbled. As if on cue, she stepped into the bar, scanning the empty wicker chairs and smiling when she found him. He was a little indignant that she'd known where to look to locate him. "Where you been, Bones?" She dropped her backpack unto the nearest chair and he glanced at the long expanse of her legs, almost completely exposed by her little khaki coloured shorts. She wore sandals on her feet, and he noticed that her toe nails were painted a pale peach colour. She looked like a sexy explorer.

Brennan passed her fingertips over the back of her neck. "Working," she said. "Vishnu Narayan showed me the remains." Booth took the freshly made drink and passed it to her, nodding in response. "We've confirmed that the bones are authentic, but the origins are still shady." She turned towards the ocean, sighing contentedly. DC, with it's bustling roads and hurried people seemed an eternity away.

Removing her sandals, she sunk her toes into the powder soft sand and sipped the yellowish liquid through the florescent pink straw.

"Vishnu and his team are flying to Réunion tomorrow," she said. "They're to attend a conference for three days, so I intend on taking full advantage of my time off," she hummed contentedly. "What's this?" She asked, holding the glass up. Booth shrugged.

"Ten parts rum, apparently…" Brennan frowned, shrugging and taking another sip. Booth turned to the restaurant, nestled beyond the shimmering swimming pool, and grinned. "They're getting ready for dinner," he said, gesturing to the uniformed waiters as they set the dinner tables with an air of grace. "I'm going to shower, what time do you want to meet?" Brennan plucked a slice of orange off her glass and inhaled the loveliness of the citrus fruit.

"Meet for what?" She asked, and when she looked up, he noticed how the evening breeze tugged at her loose hair, and stroked her cheeks.

"Dinner, Bones," he said, smiling patiently. She blinked, pushing the drink away and glancing down at her watch.

"Seven?" She suggested.

When he left, she stood, taking a final sip of the cocktail, and descended the three stone steps to the flower-lined pathway that led to the beach. A man dressed in a black pants and a white linen shirt was lighting a line of flame torches and he bid her a good evening. She smiled, watching how the dazzling yellow flames fluttered in the fading light. The island made her think of old-fashioned amenities and how she could easily adjust to the life.

She loved DC – the Jeffersonian was her second home, yet walking next to natural torches, towards an endless expanse of white coral beach, she began to wonder if modern life and what came with it, was really better than the simplicity of island life. Here, no one seemed stressed. It was reflected in their easy smiles and relaxed gait.

Brennan rounded the second pool and climbed the back stairs to her room, standing at the top of the long flight to admire the hotel gardens below. If she stood for long enough, the fluttering flames, the pinkish hue of the sky and the slow lapping waves along the beach, whooshing and whispering continually, could have convinced her to stay. And she'd only arrived earlier. There was a certain magic that filtered through everything into the very atmosphere that the island was soaked in. It was too easy to forget about work, however focused she wanted to be.

The tall palm trees swayed in the humid sea breeze, the branches creaking occasionally. She pressed her cheek to the cool white wall, and closed her eyes. The images stayed in her mind's eye, and she hoped it would forever. She had been to many beautiful places in her life, always for work purposes, but there was something about _here_ that felt different. Perhaps it was the company she'd be in for the duration of her stay.

Seeley Booth.

She hoped not, because then she was in trouble. Resistance to romance did not bode well in a place like Mauritius, and recently their friendship had been teetering dangerously on the edge of something more. Nothing had been spoken, no kisses exchanged and sex was a long way off, but Brennan had noticed that Booth's concern was shifting beyond platonic and her meddling best-friend has assured her that Booth, as her partner, had no right to pry into her personal life. But as her friend… things could be radically different.

Turning away from the glorious scene before her, Brennan slipped along the sheltered corridor to her room. Inside, the air conditioning cooled her clammy skin and she sat on the edge of her bed for a long few moments, just relaxing in the freshness of the circulating air. When she caught the scent of traditional Asian spices in the air, her stomach growled hungrily and she noticed it was already six fifteen.

Showering again, because it was simply too hot in Mauritius not to, Brennan dressed in a long summery dress and slipped her shell bracelet back unto her wrist again. She had always liked alternative jewellery, and the little red stones and tiny dried shells made her think of how, one person's junk really could be another person's treasure. She'd given the old woman a hundred rupees at the airport which was approximately four dollars, and she was certain it wasn't worth it. But it looked nice. Different.

Fastening her hair with a clip decorated with an artificial pink lotus flower, Brennan coated her lips in balm that tasted like the mango she had smelt earlier. Her pale yellow dresses swished around her bare legs and she wondered if she was over-dressed. She was vaguely aware of her own paranoia, because she'd seen plenty of people dressed exactly as she was, but looking at herself in the mirror, rosy cheeked with wavy hair and a strapped dress, she felt too much as though she were going on a date.

Chiding herself, she checked her watch again and it was five minutes to seven. There was no time left for doubt. Her 'date' would be waiting.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

_I hope you're still liking the story and the locale. I am totally loving be able to write about it. _

_**Réunion – **Ren-u-on – no emphasis is specifically placed on the 'u' in this island's name. Réunion is owned by France and is also in the Indian Ocean. _

_My reference to the 'ten part rum' thing is because I noticed the Mauritians are very generous with their alcohol. They really so have locally distilled rum called 'Green Island' and the quote given in chapter one by Mark Twain is inscribed on the label of each bottle of white. I believe what he said is so… so true. _

_I hope you'll be back for chapter three. _


	3. First Step

**Title: **Paradise Skies

**Disclaimer: **These characters are not mine.

**Rating: **This is an M rated story, eventually.

**A/N: **Goodness, I will be honest with you, I am tearing my hair out, here. I understand that I cannot please everyone in everything I do. I stopped writing Impossible Dream because I received what I deem negative feedback – which is fine, because it was an opinion and lots of people just didn't like it. I have been told that it wasn't to my 'standard', whatever that is, and that a lot of people didn't know how they felt about it. Now, I am told that I'm pretty much going down the same road with this one. So, after this chapter, let me know what you want me to do, people. Continue, or leave it. Thanks.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The restaurant, eloquently named _Tranquilité_, had walls made from rough dark stone, lit by miniature torches and decorated with sharp, vibrant images of the island. Above her head, the roof was a network of rounded of unpolished beams of natural wood, capped with dried sugar cane leaves. She admired the browned leaves for a long few moments, studying the sloping roof, and the uneven edge and decided that whoever designed the hotel had optimum paradise and luxury in mind.

"It's ironic," she said to Booth, "that these thatched roofs are designed to create the impression of simplicity and nature. To make us think that we've been transported back to a bygone era. Yet these roofs cost a fortune to maintain and are much more expensive than their modern equivalent." Booth pulled a chair out for her.

"Dried leaves aside," he said, "the menu looks amazing, check it out!" She glared at him and shook her head at his inability to appreciate the beauty and effort that surrounded them. "Traditional Chinese food, Bones! Not the junk food takeaway that we're used to." He passed her a menu, and she dropped her eyes to the slanted words, written in both English and French.

Booth noticed the large lotus flower clipped into her hair, and wondered at the astonishing transformation in his partner. One moment she was business-as-usual and the next, she was wearing a little sunny yellow dress and a flower in her hair. She looked amazing, too. The few hours she'd spent in the sun had already added an usual glow to her skin. He ought to have been ashamed at his appraisal of her, but she was completely unlike the Temperance Brennan is the Jeffersonian.

The waiter stood at their side, a crisp linen cloth draped over his arm. He smiled, and said "_Bonsoir_." Brennan lifted her eyes from the menu and smiled back, her lovely blue eyes matched the colour of the afternoon ocean, and the candle light on their table flickered in the breeze, catching the magnificent blue and making it sparkle. Booth was captivated.

"Good evening," she replied.

Brennan ordered fish and Booth the special sea food basket and they agreed on a red South African wine. When the waiter was gone, Brennan turned to him, folding her hands atop the salmon colour table cloth and sighed. "So," she said, her eyes shifting awkwardly around the restaurant. Each table was occupied by couples that whispered intimately among themselves. She felt out of place. "Why _did_ you come here? Wouldn't you be more comfortable with one of your Tessas?" His eyes darkened considerably.

"Bones… don't," he said, shaking open his napkin which had been shaped almost like a blooming Heliconia.

"What?" She asked, innocently pouring herself a glass of water.

"Why should you assume that I'd want to be in someone else's company? I really thought we'd moved beyond that…" He shook his head sadly. Brennan broke the end off a freshly baked baguette and chewed silently on the bread. "I'll be honest, Bones, I knew I'd miss you. You and I… we both know something is different, right?" She neither agreed nor disagreed, instead, she busied herself with a mouthful of water. "I wanted to be here… with you…" he paused. "Is this too much?" Brennan twisted one of the little shells on her wrist, and turned her gaze to the pool, iridescent, lit up from below.

"A little," she admitted. "Not necessarily in a bad way… just… we're partners. We've got…" Booth nodded slowly.

"Yeah… I know. Work. But while we're here… can't we just see how it goes?" The waiter brought their wine and when he'd poured the deep ruby liquid into the glasses, Brennan remained quiet.

"We can see how it goes," she agreed. "I don't see anything wrong with that. But I should remind you, I'm here on business. While you may not-" Booth lifted his hand, and she was silenced.

"I'll find something to amuse myself with, don't worry. I won't interfere." She seemed contented with his word, and lifted her glass in a silent toast. They were silent as she mulled over their discussion. 'See how it goes' made her insides feel a little tingly. She didn't know whether it really was okay or whether she really did not see anything wrong with it. There were a thousand things wrong with it. Allowing her relationship with Booth to evolve from friendship into something else was dangerous and foolish.

He was essentially her colleague, and he had a risky job. Hadn't she already lost enough? Stepping over the line that she was toeing at the moment, and confirming that she felt something for him was the equivalent of asking for punishment. Booth was the type of man who, once he had her, would ensure she was never let go.

She had three days in which work, unless she went to the university alone, was out of the question. She had intended on checking out the island, but she instinctively knew that Booth would be wanting to insinuate himself into her activities. It would be on hell of a week, fighting off what was rapidly becoming a 'situation' between them. One which, had they been in DC, they'd have been able to ignore.

In fact, if Booth hadn't insisted on coming with her, she could easily have ignored it now, too. His admission that he'd come with her because he would have missed her tugged at her insides, yet frightened her. She remembered how, when Tessa had declined to go with him on his vacation, he'd hesitated in the doorway to Wong Fu's and contemplated asking her to go, then. It felt like an eternity ago, but she should have expected the change in their relationship. She shouldn't have been so bowled over by it, now.

Brennan sipped her wine, immersed in the flickering wall-torches and the melodic stringed music that had begun to play. Their silence was supposed to be companionable, but to her, it felt as though they were hesitating speaking to one and other again. What could be said? If she shifted to another topic, it would be obvious and if she didn't, then they'd have to continue their discussion and she just wasn't ready.

As it happened, she didn't have to, because their waiter brought their food and with small knowing smiles, they began to eat.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

_I have named the restaurant Tranquilité which is inspired by the name of a restaurant in Paul et Virginie Hotel in Grand Gaube called La Trinquette – which according to my husband translates into literally nothing. But, the name always made me think of tranquillity. Please let me know whether this story is worth continuing with, because at the moment, I'm at a loss as to what kind of story people want to read. _

_You're input is appreciated._

_Thank you,_

_**Pereybere **_


	4. Slow Moving

**Title: **Paradise Skies (_Cieux de Paradis_)

**Disclaimer: **Booth and Brennan belong to Fox.

**Rating: **This will be an M rated story.

**A/N: **Thank you for the many emails I have received about continuing this story, I am so flattered that so many of you thought it was worth it. I'm making a very big effort to stop caring what people think, and just get on with what I am doing. For those of you who do like it, I hope you continue to do so. And since a lot of you have Googled Mauritius, you probably know how fantastic it is. I hope you've got the scene in your mind now…

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

She woke with a start, certain that she was late for work.

When she saw the ceiling fan turning in slow rotations and the gossamer curtains shifting in the early morning breeze, she remembered where she was, and relaxed back unto her pillow.

The television, set by automatic alarm to go off at eight thirty, flicked on and her bedroom was filled with the melodic sounds of violins which elicited a sigh from between her lips. Wasn't this really what life was about? Luxuriating on Egyptian cotton, relaxing to the sound of violins and revelling in the knowledge that work was not required?

Lord, what had happened to her? Work was her life! Her career meant more to her than anything else in the world.

Kicking aside the sheets, she climbed from the bed and stretched languidly, stepping into the bathroom to brush her teeth.

She admired the vibrant red and orange flowers, that seemed to explode against the white walls, and brightened the black granite. She rubbed the waxy petals, and turned to the mirror.

She looked healthy and rested, instead of feeling tired like she should have after yesterday's flight. Her hair was tousled, knotted around her cheeks, but she felt alive, not groggy. Her muscles needed no encouragement, she was ready to go!

In her bedroom, the sun leaked through the drapes, slanting in bright lines across the tiled floor, inching towards her bed. The violin symphony changed to a piano, and she swayed in tandem to the melody, squeezing toothpaste unto her brush. Today she planned on taking a trip to Grand Baie, the next town over, to the acclaimed bazaar that apparently sold all the ornaments she could want for her home.

Then, if they had time, she wanted to visit the biggest Hindu temple in the country, in the inland village, and the largest, Triolet.

For the first time since she came into consciousness, she thought of Booth. 'They'. He'd of course be travelling with her, pestering her and making inappropriate innuendos in his cocky manner. Yet, she had to wonder, if she really resented it so much, why could she see her cheeks turning the colour of the flowers in the vase?

Showering, Brennan thought of dinner the night before and how Booth had been the perfect gentleman all evening, commenting only on how amazing his Chinese seafood basket tasted. She had enjoyed his company simply because he hadn't been bombarding her with questions, and she hoped today would be much the same.

When she was dressed, Brennan knocked on Booth's door and listened for a long moment, suspecting that he might still be asleep. She knocked again, and started when a warm hand landed on her bare shoulder. She spun on her heel, turning to face him, dressed in shorts and a sleeveless shirt that displayed every inch of his firm, bronzed skin, Brennan inhaled. He already smelt of sun cream.

"Morning," he said gruffly. "You're up late," he tossed her an orange, and grinned. Brennan glanced at her watch and noted that it was only nine fifteen. Booth saw her expression and chuckled. "Yeah, I've been up from six. I went for a run along the beach." Brennan was assaulted by an image of him, moving along the pure white sands, along the edge of the water as the brilliant sun rose over the horizon and she had to remind herself that he was still standing there. "There's something so… liberating to be up at six, no worries, no stress and the day stretches before you, unfilled…" Brennan rolled the large orange in her hand and grinned.

"Well, actually, you're day is filled now," she dug into the back pocket of her shorts, a tan colour today, and passed him a map. "We have loads to do." Booth rolled his eyes, unfolding the detailed island map and studying the places she had starred. "I want to pick up some typical Mauritian ornaments for my house and then I was thinking we could check out the restaurants in Grand Baie, Vishnu really recommends this little place called-"

"Bones," Booth reached out, touching the bare expanse of her arm with his fingertips. She was immediately silenced. "How about we just take the day slowly, huh? Stop off where we want, drink some local beer and just have fun?" She was aware of how hot his skin was against hers, and how she'd have agreed to just about anything.

"I want to see the Maheswarnath temple in Triolet," she said slowly. Booth chuckled, slipping his key into his door and stepping into his room. She smelt him, and struggled not to inhale deeply. He took his backpack, slipped the map into the pocket and slung it over his shoulders.

"You'll never stop running, Bones…" he said. "Everything is a crazy rush. But by the time we leave this island, you will definitely have learned to take things…" she saw how his eyes raked leisurely over her body, from the crown of her head to the tips of her toes. "slowly." She felt as though something that clamped around her lungs, for she struggled to breathe.

Adjusting her own backpack, she cleared her throat. "I'm not used to taking my time," she said. "There are always too many things to do." Booth blinked.

"You'll be used to it soon." She was certain he was flirting with her. She had learnt to detect a male come-on, and Booth was definitely throwing her an innuendo. Her chest flushed, and she turned towards the door, dropping the orange into a bowl already filled with exotic treats. "So… Grand Baie it is, then." She tossed him a smile over her shoulder and shoulder. "What's so amazing about it, then?"

"What's so amazing about the local beer?" She tossed back. Booth paused to think.

"It's got a higher percentage of alcohol than most beers… isn't that enough?" She chuckled, rolling her eyes. "And, I'm on vacation," his hand dropped to the base of her back and his fingers shifted over the cotton shirt she wore. Brennan felt his breath against her ear and he bent to speak. "And for three days, so are you…" She had the strangest feeling that there was almost a promise in his statement. Brennan told herself to quit focusing on their shifting relationship. Wasn't she the one who'd been fretting in her bathroom less than an hour before? Wasn't it she who didn't want to contend with the change, just yet? So why was she perpetually stuck on the same mental subject of how things were different?

With the day stretched ahead, and the prospect of Booth's continually flirting looming over her head, she suspected that by mid afternoon, it would be _she_ who would require the extra strong local beer.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

**Grand Baie – **_Gran' Bay – no emphasis put on the 'd'. This town is the most commercial part of the island (next to the capital city) It's named such because it has an enormous rounded bay, and the beach here is almost always busy. _

**Triolet – **_Tre-o-lay – This village is the longest on the island, and has the biggest Hindu temple. It is also, incidentily, where my husband lived for his entire life._

_Thanks to everyone who reviewed, again, you've been really excellent! _


End file.
